pets. Something always happened. One of 

 these four squirrels was rocked on, a second 

 was squeezed in a door, a third fell before he 

 could fly, and the fourth I took to college with 

 me. He had perfect liberty, for I had no other 

 room-mate. I set aside one hour a day to 

 putting corks, pens, photographs, and knives 

 back in their places, for him to tuck away the 

 next day in one of my shoes or under my pil- 

 low. More than once I have awakened to find 

 him curled up in my neck or up my sleeve, 

 the dearest little bedfellow alive. But it was 

 three stories from my window to the street ; and 

 one day he tried his wings. They were not 

 equal to the flight. Since then I have left my 

 wild pets in the woods. 



If one wants to know what birds are about, 

 especially the larger, more cautious species, let 

 him get under cover near a tall dead oak or 

 walnut, standing alone in the middle of open 

 fields. Such a tree is the natural rest and look- 

 out for every passer. Here come the hawks to 

 wait and watch ; here the sentinel crows are 

 posted while the flock pilfers corn and plugs 

 melons ; here the flickers and woodpeckers light 

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